When I get angry or upset or sad or stressed, I regress. I whine. I become very stubborn and nothing can make me feel better. No matter what is said or offered, I want none of it and I continue to pout, regardless of what the other person is trying to do to comfort me. I’ll refuse to talk about what’s upsetting me and give someone the silent treatment. Sometimes, I eat pieces of Play-Doh.

I think that’s why my relationship with Profligacy was so comforting for me at the time I found it. I got to be the little girl and be taken care of at a time when I needed it most and was horribly stressed. I was lost and confused and depressed and floundering, and I found stability and comfort in having someone take control of me and my life. I handed everything over to someone else, just like it was when I was a child. But as I started coming back into my own, I pulled away from the stifling and paternal grip that the relationship had on me.

However, that doesn’t mean that my coping skills have gotten any better. I still act like a child when I get upset. I know it’s immature and it’s something that I need to work on, but I can’t seem to help it. There’s a bratty child in me that comes out during times of high stress. Sometimes it’s for a few minutes, sometimes a few hours, or, in the case of my relationship with Profligacy, several months (almost a year, actually!). Because this coping mechanism is something employed by people at much earlier stages of development than I’m at, facing much less substantial problems, it’s an unsuitable method of coping. It tends to exacerbate my problems, or destroy my relationships.

It’s time for me to grow up, but I just don’t know how. Or maybe, I know exactly how, but I just don’t want to.

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One Comment

  1. Screaming VioletNo Gravatar
    Posted July 6, 2010 at 1:59 am | Permalink

    You’re right – not scary at all! and what you’re describing is pretty normal, when our emotional balance gets out of whack due to stress or anything else we do regress to being childlike. An age when we didn’t have any responsibilities and we could throw tantrums when things got out of whack and someone else (normally mum) would fix things for us. Shit I do it constantly.

    I thought ‘scary’ when I saw the word regression, past bad experiences with dodgy bodgey regression style therapists fucking around in my head, was afraid you’d had a similar experience with regression therapy when I saw your post tweeted.

    XX love you for sharing yourself, your whole self without shame, and without censorship – fuck the haters!

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